I ducked to avoid being hit and yelled at Ashur, 'Go—go!'
The windscreen blew apart under gunfire, and a round punched into my seat. I swore, lifted my head, and fired at the man in front of the car. Ashur wrenched the wheel, clipped the shooter I'd tagged, and made for the end of the street. I glanced at his profile—jaw clamped, those fierce, unreadable eyes locked on the road.
Another biker came at us from Ashur's side—red crash helmet, gun aimed at his head. Before Ashur could raise his weapon, I swung mine on the rider. Ashur ducked over the wheel; I took the window and squeezed the trigger. The bullet caught him clean in the neck. He lost the bike and hit the tarmac hard; the motorcycle scudded across the carriageway and the Union cars chasing us ploughed into it. The blast went off a heartbeat later. I sat up and dragged my gaze from the rear.
Breathing hard, I scanned the streets. Looked like we'd shaken them. The car picked up speed and shot onto the main road. I swallowed and breathed, 'That's it—we're clear.'
Ashur cast a look around as he cut from one road to the next. 'No. Now it's not just the Triune Union—it's the w…whole Met a…after us.'
I pressed my spine to the seat and clutched my side. Sweat slipped down my temples. He was right; sirens wailed—roads would be blocked any minute. One grew louder, right behind us. I twisted round. Three police cars were arrowing our way. I swallowed. 'Our guests have arrived.'
Still steering one-handed, Ashur dropped two magazines into my lap and growled, rough, 'Why don't you… entertain them?'
I grinned. While I slammed a mag home, I braced a hand on the door, waited for an open-top double-decker bus to draw level—then leaned out and shot out the front tyre of the lead police car. The pop coincided with the crack of my shot; the car lurched left, skidding into the next lane. That was enough. The second police car rammed its bumper, and both slammed into the bus. Metal screamed; a chain pile-up erupted. Smoke and fire blurred the view, swallowing the blues-and-twos behind us.
Ashur swung into the next street, then knifed into a side alley. I faced forward again, panting, and snapped, 'What's the plan?'
He didn't answer—just stared ahead. After a few turns, he spotted a tyre fitter's, yanked us in, and slewed to a halt. A bloke in the middle of the bay dropped the tyre he was carrying and stumbled back; the others scattered at the noise and the sudden entry.
Ashur flung his door open and barked, 'Out.'
I let my hair fall over my face to hide it. A young, muscled bloke, inked to the knuckles, barked in a thick London accent, 'Oi—what the hell d'you think you're doing?'
I climbed out and forced myself to walk steadily. I kept my eyes off their stunned faces and fell in beside Ashur. The painkillers had all but worn off; every step lit up my body, bullet wound included.
The young bloke lunged, grabbing Ashur's arm. 'I'm talking to you!'
Ashur didn't even look at him. In one cold, efficient motion he caught the bloke's wrist, turned it, broke his balance, and shoved—hard. The big lad flew like he weighed nothing and crashed into a stack of tyres.
Breath ragged, I kept my pistol tucked under my T-shirt and hurried after Ashur as we slipped back out of the garage.
We burst from the alley onto the street. Ashur eased into a slit-thin alleyway and looked out at a busy road beyond. I followed, clutching my thigh. 'Now what?'
I paused, straightened, nerves fizzing, listening to sirens crawling closer. 'Hear that? They're sweeping for us!'
He was staring at something. I tracked his gaze—and froze. the driver bloke rolled past on a three-wheeler with a blue carriage hitched behind, trimmed in faux fur, balloons bobbing off the back. A sugary pop track spilled into the street as two blonde girls hopped out and waved him off.
Ashur turned his head towards me. I stared at the 'Love' sign on the back, the RGB lights flickering. I'd heard about these—pedicabs, rickshaws around London, especially in Soho and Covent Garden, blasting music for tourists. My mouth curved.
I knew my eyes were up to no good.
Ashur held my gaze, voice low and warning. 'Y…You're not actually thinking of getting on that, are y…you?'
I bared my teeth in a smile, eyes on the rider climbing back on. 'Oh, I very much am.'